The red book of animal stories/Greyhounds and their Arab Masters
GREYHOUNDS AND THEIR ARAB MASTERS.
If we travel about from one country to another, we shall find that each one has a particular kind of dog which is considered useful and precious above all others. In Scotland it is the collie which is most prized, in the high Alps it is the St. Bernard, while in Greenland no one would get on at all without the Eskimo dogs, who draw sledges and do quantities of other needful work, and in Newfoundland there are very few houses which cannot boast of one of the huge black good-natured dogs who are equally ready to be nurses to the children, or to jump into the water to save a drowning man.
Now, in the high plains of Kordofan, which lie to the west of the White Nile, the greyhound or wind dog, as it is called by the Germans, is held in great honour. If you walk through any of the villages, you will see three or four greyhounds lying before the door of every hut, each one more beautiful than the other. They are the village policemen, and guard the people from the fierce leopards and hyænas which steal down at night from the caves where they sleep all day, and prowl round in search of a supper. Like their enemies, the greyhounds sleep during the long hot hours when the sun is up, but the moment he sinks, and the quick darkness of the tropics comes on, they stretch themselves and begin to set about performing their duties. There is no quarrelling or confusion—each dog seems to have his post, and he goes to it at once. If the village is walled in, a certain number will betake themselves to the walls, while others mount to the thatched roofs of the low round, huts, and lie quietly down, their eyes open and their ears at full cock, waiting to catch the slightest sound. Sometimes, when the hyænas and leopards have been particularly fierce, a dog or two will take up positions in the outskirts of the village, to give the first warning of danger. Here and there, early in the evening, a bark or a growl may be heard, but as the darkness deepens these die away and all is still, till suddenly the village is awakened by the sound of a battle. Barely does a night pass without something of the kind. In a few minutes every dog is gathered at the place where the enemy has come up, and directly he is dead on the ground, they leave him there, and go proudly back to their posts. Only on one occasion is their courage known to fail, and that is when the robber turns out to be a lion. Then the conquerors of leopards and hyænas tremble with fear, and shrink howling into some safe corner or hide themselves amongst the thorny hedges that surround the village.
Twice in every week the dogs were given a rare treat. Very early on these mornings the sound of a horn was heard, and then what stir there was among them! From each house three or four came bounding to the place from which the noise proceeded, and in a few minutes after the first blast, fifty or sixty dogs were gathered together. Like eager boys they crowded round the man, jumping up on him or running to and fro with excitement, howling, barking, yelping, snarling, jostling each other to get nearest to the trumpeter, and really behaving as if they had all gone mad. In the midst of all this confusion the young men arrived, bearing in their hands lances and ropes, and sought out their own dogs from the throng. From five to six were led by each man, and hard work it was to get the restless creatures leashed together, jumping and barking all the while with joy! At last all was ready and the hunting procession moved out of the village, and very fine it was! They seldom went far; the neighbouring woods were full of game, and thanks to the skill and quickness of the dogs, the men had an easy time of it. The leash was slipped, and the dogs dashed into the thickets, and soon reappeared, bringing with them all sorts of game—bustards, guinea-hens, or anything else that they happened to come across. If they spied an antelope, five or six would join to chase him, and it was seldom, indeed, that he got away. At the end of the day the spoil was counted over, and was found to consist of antelopes, hares, birds, and often wild animals, such as pariah dogs or desert foxes.
The greyhounds are the pride of the dwellers in the Kordofan desert, and every man thinks his own dog the most beautiful and clever in the world. This breed is not to be found among the Arabs who live among the marshes that border the Nile, and if by any chance one of the desert highlanders wanders that way with his dogs, one or two are sure to be snapped up by the crocodiles. Those dogs who are born and brought up on the banks of the Nile seldom fall a prey to these terrible creatures. If they are thirsty, they never drink till they have looked carefully up and down to make certain that their dreaded enemy is not lurking close at hand. But the desert dog, who knows nothing about rivers or crocodiles, leaps gaily into the stream, and is dragged underneath by his destroyer.
In the west of the Sahara, dogs, as a rule, are only valued for their uses, and are not treated at all kindly; but all the care and affection that the Arab has to give, he bestows on the greyhound. His dog is the apple of his eye, and the two almost eat from the same dish, and share the same sleeping mat. A Sahara Arab will travel joyfully twenty or thirty miles to find a suitable wife for his beloved companion.
A really good greyhound is so swift that it can overtake a gazelle in a very short time; and there is a saying among the Arabs, that if one catches sight of a gazelle grazing, he will catch it before it has time to swallow the food that is in its mouth.
THE SUMMONS TO THE HUNT
The little greyhound pups are petted from the time they are born, and the villagers bring presents of milk and other things to the mother. There is no flattery they will spare, and no promise they do not give, for the chance of getting one of the puppies for their own. ‘I am your friend, my brother,’ they will say; ‘grant me, I pray you, the favour that I ask. When you start for the hunt, I will go with you; I will serve you and help you as a friend may.’ Then the master of the greyhound answers that in seven days he will make up his mind whether he will part with the puppy or not, and till then the man must wait. This is because in every litter of greyhound puppies, one is always better than the rest, and in order to find out which is the cleverest the owner will take it away from its mother’s side before it is seven days old, and see if it can get back by itself. If it can, he believes the pup will turn out a great prize, worth the best negro slave that could be offered him. It would be dreadful indeed, if he found he had given away such a treasure!
After fourteen days the little fellows are fed upon the milk of goats or camels, with as many dates as they like to eat, and as soon as they are three or four months old, their education begins. The boys let out some small animal under the puppy’s nose, and while he is still watching it in a puzzled way, set him on to catch it. It does not take long to awaken his sporting instincts, and in a few weeks he is shown higher game. When he is five or six months, he is considered old enough to learn how to hunt hares—not at all an easy task, and one which requires a great deal of preparation. The puppy is held in a leash, and led by some of the men to a place where hares are known to lie. The hare is roused and made to run away, and the greyhound is taught to follow it until, after repeated trials, he learns how to hunt it down. When he has thoroughly mastered this lesson, he is promoted to the chase of gazelles, which needs a great deal of caution, especially if the mothers happen to be near by. But in a very little while the pups learn this too, and then the greatest pleasure they have is a hunting expedition.
By this time the pup is a year old, and has nearly reached his full strength and spirits. In three or four months more his heart dances with joy at the sight of a herd of antelopes—the more the merrier, he thinks, as he watches thirty or forty of these big beasts feeding together in the plains. Trembling with excitement he flies to his master, and looks up pleadingly in his face, for he has been too well taught to go off without leave. ‘Son of a Jew,’ says the master, who himself has discovered the antelopes, and knows quite well what this means—’Son of a Jew, do not lie to me, and tell me you have seen nothing. I know you, friend, and I myself will go with you.’ So he takes his skin of water, and sprinkles it over the little greyhound’s body, that he may become stronger and better able to resist his enemies. The dog is too impatient to be gone to submit patiently to these ceremonies, and when at last he is set free, gives one rapturous bark, and makes, like an arrow from a bow, for the largest and finest beast in the herd. And when he has killed him, he always receives the flesh off the ribs for his share.
Greyhounds are prudent creatures, but also very vain. If a greyhound fails to bring down an antelope which has been pointed out to him by his master, and another dog succeeds in doing it, he feels wounded in his most tender place. This vanity comes mostly from his education. A pure bred greyhound would never think of eating from a dirty plate or drinking milk which any hand had touched. He learns very early to consider that he has a right to the best of everything. Other dogs may almost starve, and accept thankfully the food a greyhound would not look at, but he will lie by his master’s side, and sometimes in his bed. He wears a coat, so that no cold wind may touch him, and if he is cross, everyone declares it is a sign of high birth. No finery is thought too good for him; necklaces and shells are hung round his neck, and he wears a talisman to preserve him from the evil eye. His diet is a matter of careful consideration, and no man would dream of giving his greyhound anything but the dainty bits he has kept for himself.
No well brought up greyhound would ever think of hunting with any man but his master, and indeed his affection and his clean habits amply repay all the trouble spent upon him. If his master is absent for a few days, the greyhound nearly goes out of his mind with joy at his return. He jumps right on to the saddle itself, and almost smothers the man with his caresses. And the Arab understands all he is feeling, and says to him: ‘Friend, forgive me, I had to leave you. But now, come with me. I am weary of dates, and need meat, and I know you will be so good as to get me some.’ And the dog takes him at his word, for he knows he is worthy of his trust.
When the greyhound dies, the whole tent mourns for him. The women and children weep, as they would for one of themselves, and indeed he is often a greater loss than a member of the family might be. A ‘slugui’ who hunts for the poor Bedouins is never sold, and only very rarely given away in return for some great benefit. The value of such a ‘slugui,’ who is a successful hunter of gazelles, exceeds that of a camel; the worth of a greyhound who can capture antelopes is equal to that of the finest horse.